No Rest for the Weary
by Batman Murdock Kent
Summary: (Re-upload, first one was a little odd with some upload weirdness.) Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff had grown close in their time as partners. Now, after the Battle of New York, they have time to relax. As their relationship becomes less and less professional and more romantic, they must make hard choices, and deal with a sinister plot at the same time. (Ignores AoU.)


He hadn't slept well. The bed felt wet from his sweat, and not matter how many layers he would get up to put on, no matter how many blankets he threw on top of his comforter, he couldn't escape a chill. He had wondered if maybe falling from such a great hight during the battle had given him a a concussion, maybe that was why he was such a mess right now. But now, he had landed hard on his quiver, not his head, much to the protestation of his back and ribs. No, he knew why he couldn't sleep, and it frustrated him to know that even though he had seen him and his brother teleported off of Earth, Loki was still in his head. Not literally, he had full control back, but Loki had just gotten under his skin. Clint Barton had never liked bullies or bad guys, his record wasn't exactly spotless but he always tried to do what he thought was right. He didn't like the idea that he had helped and enabled the bad guys, even if he didn't have any say in it. Natasha, Steve, all of them kept telling him it wasn't his fault, that Loki could have done it to any of them if they had been there when he took the Tesseract. Clint didn't believe in no-win situations, there was something he could have done. If he had just focused harder on breaking free, or, something, surely there was something.

Sighing, Clint looked at his phone, its blank screen lit up to say 3:21am. He sighed and buried his head in his pillow.

"Can split an arrow in half from two hundred yards away but can't sleep," he muttered, "this sucks."

It was 5:30am when she woke up, as if she were a programmed machine. Her apartment in Manhattan was sparse yet comfortable. She stretched and felt the pain ripple through her whole body, she was sore, beaten, and battered from the previous mission. She furrowed her eyebrows together while she attempted to rub some of the soreness away through her pajama bottoms. She woke up and changed, she liked waking up before sunrise, everything was more relaxed and still in the hours just before the sun rose. She changed into some yoga pants and a t-shirt before going on her daily run. It wasn't a terrible challenge for her, but it made her break a sweat and get her day going. On mornings like this, when she was recovering from injuries, it also helped her feel where she was improving, and where her body was still healing itself.

She jogged past an ally where three men had tried to mug her two months before, she couldn't help but wonder if she searched hard enough she could find some of their teeth. When she returned home it was 6:07 and the sun was beginning to rise, bathing the city in a haze of street lights and rising commuters. She put a pot of water on to boil and laid her tea bag out on the counter next to the stove, methodically placing it where she always had. Then, she showered, enjoying the feeling of the warm water on her wounds and scars before drying off, looking into her mirror, framed by her crimson curls. By the time she got dressed in her black jeans, red racer back tee, caramel leather jacket, and boots, she was sipping her tea, listening to some music, and scrolling absent-mindedly through her phone, looking at the news.

The world was still reeling from the "Battle of New York" as people had termed it. Also, the scraps and bits of the battle citizens had recorded had been thoroughly searched by everyone, from the most popular new sights to the smallest blogger. She didn't like seeing herself online so much, even if it was just blurry images next to Stark or Clint. People wanted to know who the mysterious woman and man were fighting next to Captain America, Iron man, the Hulk, and Thor. Natasha furrowed her brow again. She and Clint were spies, people weren't supposed to know that they even existed. Now here people were, calling them Avengers. She set her phone down and finished off her tea. She sat the mug down and cracked a half smile at it. It had the Eiffel Tower on it and it said, "Paris" on it. Clint had bought it for her on one of the first missions together. It was Christmas Eve, and he had bought it as a last minute gift. He apologized, said he had forgot about the holiday, what with the mission and all. Natasha told him it wasn't a problem, that she hadn't even bothered to get him anything and the mission always came first. She placed the mug in the sink, still smiling at the memory, and how much had changed. She sat back down, and picked up her phone. She found him in her contacts and pressed the green notification.

The vibration woke him, why hadn't he turned off the vibration?

"Aww, phone, no." He mumbled as he slid the green icon to accept the call. "S'too early."

"Good morning to you too."

"Hold on I can't hear you." He mumble-spoke as he reached over to his night stand for one of his hearing aids. He put it on and returned, "what time is it?"

"Seven o clock."

"You're evil."

Natasha kept her tone normal but couldn't help but smile. "You're a mess."

"It's my day off."

"It's _our two weeks off._ " She corrected him.

"Still too early."

"What time do you want to meet up and actually start our little vacation time then?" She asked mockingly kind.

"Later. Too sleepy now. I trust you." He said before hanging up. Natasha knew he wasn't being rude, it was just short hand for "come over whenever and I'll drag myself out of bed." Natasha knew him well. They had grown very close since partnering together as Strike Team Delta. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well, she was hoping this little vacation would help cheer him up and get him completely back to normal. And if she were honest with herself, she was looking forward to spending time with him.

The phone buzzed again on his chest. His eyes shot open and he wiped the drool from his cheek as he rested on his elbow and read the text. It simply read, "outside, I have breakfast." It was a little after nine in the morning. He stretched out and rubbed his eyes before going to the front door. When he opened it, him and Natasha were a study in opposites. She seemed rested and confident. She looked beautiful, but then again, the didn't she? She was holding a paper bag of muffins from a bakery they found together in Brooklyn not far from his Apartment building. He on the other hand was wearing a purple t-shirt with a few holes in it, old sweatpants, and had bags under his eyes.

"Good s'mores leaping bounty." She said, handing him the bag and walking in, taking her normal spot on his couch. Clint blinked several times and rubbed his eyes.

"Say that again." He said, clearing his vision and this time looking at her lips carefully.

"Good morning sleeping beauty." She said again, slightly slower than last time. "Still too early to read lips huh?"

"Yeah," he said disappearing into his room and coming back again with his hearing aids. "Thanks for food." He said, plopping the bag onto the coffee table and ravenously biting off a hunk of blueberry muffin. He went to the coffee pot and started making a pot. "So how long have you been up?"

"About four and a half hours." She responded.

"Sadist." He said without turning around, the smell of coffee began to fill the air and a comfortable silence settled over them. He went to his cupboard and found her mug, it was really his but Natasha was the only one that ever used it and waved it at her.

"I've already had tea, I'm fine."

"Suit yourself, you should never pass up free coffee or food though." He said, walking over to the couch and unceremoniously flopping down next to her, with his head dangerously close to her lap.

"Still not sleeping well?"

"You know how it is."

"Yeah." She almost whispered back to him. She did know. They didn't need to say anything more.

"You have big plans for us?" He asked, as he forced himself up.

"Beg pardon?" What do you mean "us"? Big plans, like a wedding or something? He brows furrowed again, not just from the question, but her inference from the question.

"The whole vacation thing, you said you had some ideas." He returned calmly.

"Oh, yeah, well I don't know I have several ideas, it just kinda depends on what you wanna do."

Clint smiled a lopsided grin that she was glad to see him wear again, "since when have I ever had any say on our trips?"

"I've decided to be nice and share, don't question it or this will go back to being a dictatorship." She threatened.

"I'm up for anything you know me." He said as he got up to retrieve his now full pot of coffee. "What were your ideas?"

"Well theres some super fancy show in Manhattan right now that I could easily get tickets to. It's for tonight only though. And then, I don't know I thought we could just spend some time together."

"I thought I was the one that made a vague outline of a plan that always backfires and leads to trouble?" Clint said, drinking from his pot of coffee like a giant mug. "You sure there's no where in particular you just want to go?"

"I just want to be with you." Natasha said honestly. She said it frankly with little emotion, but it was still enough to make Clint's heart skip a beat.

"What times the show tonight?" Clint asked a smile already hidden behind his coffee pot.

"Starts at eight, it's a star studded affair nice and fancy. Supposed to be really good too." She replied.

"Alright, you in for a lazy day before you put me in a monkey suit tonight?" Clint asked.

"That sounds perfect." Natasha replied. Soon they were piled on the couch, munching on muffins and talking, barely listening to the dumb action movie they used for background noise. Natasha was usually more of a planner, but she found that she cherished these small intimate lazy moments with Clint. And, if occasionally during their talks they would sit closer together and their hands would brush against each other, or he would play with her hair or her hand would fall on his arm, well, that wasn't anything. What mattered was they were together for two weeks. Even if she wanted to pull him closer, and he wanted nothing more than to tell her how he felt. They were just partners, very close partners, but partners and that was all. And two weeks of fun and adventure with Hawkeye and Black Widow couldn't possibly go wrong, right?


End file.
